


Are You Sulking Again

by InkEros (thacmis)



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Birds, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Crack, Digital Art, Domestic, Erik is a Sweetheart, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, Idiots in Love, Illustrations, Insecure Charles, Jealous Charles, M/M, Poor Charles, Protective Erik, charl is the cutest birb ever, erik tries really hard to take good care of his boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5255081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thacmis/pseuds/InkEros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A light pair of tiny feet patters onto his chest and up to his collar bone. Erik lifts his arm and opens one of his eyes to stare into the fluffy white face of the Charles-dove. It looks almost nothing like Charles, except for its blue eyes, and perhaps its pink beak, which could resemble the man's beautiful red lips, if Erik squints a bit.</i>
</p><p>  <i>"We're going to have to cancel our movie date," he says. It's the first thing that comes to his mind. "Pets aren't allowed in the theatre."</i></p><p><i>Charles plops down on his chest, cooing sadly. </i><br/>----<br/>AU in which Charles ignores Hank's advice and gets turned into a ridiculously cute fluffy dove. Erik and Charles try to figure out how to turn him back while surviving domestic life together. How the hell will they get through this. Crack af</p><p>(***COMPLETED. With new illustrations for the last chapter***)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Touch

**Author's Note:**

> i really love birbs

The doorbell rings.

"Oh, hello, Hank!" Charles grins brightly. Hank can't help but smile too; if Hank weren't straight he'd probably be in trouble. "Come on in! I've made some tea."

"Thanks professor."

"No need to call me that, chap. Just Charles is fine."

"Ok. Thanks for doing this, Charles. I wouldn't have bothered you, but--"

Charles shushes him as he wedges the door into an open position with a wooden stopper. "Hank, we've gone over this. We're neighbors, and that's what neighbors are for."

According to Charles, "neighbors" is interchangeable with "friends", and that’s usually _not_ how most people think.

Well, Hank thinks, that's just Charles for you.

He tows a trolley full of cardboard boxes out of an open elevator towards Charles' door. "I'm really sorry, it's a lot of stuff."

"Erik and I have a spare guest room that can't seem to ever get used, so I can't think of a better place for your things. Come on." Charles begins lifting boxes up from the trolley and starts towards the supposed guest room.

Hank picks up two other boxes and follows his friendly neighbor. Hank does not point out to his friendly neighbor the reason his guest room can't seem to ever get used is most probably because Charles' flatmate -- _boyfriend,_ he corrects himself -- is the most intimidating turtle-neck wearing creature known to mankind. He isn't even sure Erik is _human_ , with all that teeth. Christ. He's so glad the man isn't here--

"Charles!"

\--or rather, _is_ here.

Hank trembles. "Hi."

Erik grins, and it takes Hank all of his strength not to abandon his plan. He had an entire relationship banking on this. "Hi, Hank, is it?"

Hank nods.

"Erik!" Charles beams at him, all sunshine. "Hank's an ornithologist, as I've told you, and he's going to South America to do a bit of field work. We'll be looking after some of his belongings for a couple of weeks. His apartment's going to be let out to a temporary student during the time, you see."

"Sure," Erik shrugs. He goes to the trolley by the doorway and helps them transfer the boxes. Hank's only met Erik for a grand total of one time, but Erik doesn't seem as scary as he did the last time, when Hank watched from a distance Erik growling like a wolf at a man trying to pick Charles up. But Hank is definitely _not_ picking Charles up, so he supposes he's safe.

When the all the boxes are sitting neatly inside the guest room, Charles surveys the pile like it's artwork and hums satisfyingly to himself.

"Oh, by the way."

"Yes, Hank?"

"Here--" He goes over to the pile and casually picks out two boxes to set aside from the rest. "I know you're a molecular biologist, and everything, but there's a bit of unpublished work I did on bird genomes that I think you might find interesting. You can look through these boxes, if you like. Well, you can look through all of them, if you like, but these two might be more interesting to you."

Charles smiles very widely at him, and Hank feels a bit warm. He can kind of see why Erik's so protective of him. "Really, Hank? Are you sure?"

"Well, yes," Hank says, "I trust you."

"And I'll be sure to do your trust justice," Charles says sincerely, eyes bright. "I'd love to take a look later. But now let's go have some biscuits and tea, shall we? It's probably quite cold by now. I'll heat it up again."

They sit in the kitchen and talk. It's actually quite nice, Hank thinks, and Erik isn't the monster that everyone in the neighborhood says he is. Well, none of them know Erik personally, and the only other person besides Charles who does is Raven, Charles' sister, and she seems to like him a lot, as well. If all the people who know Erik _like_ Erik, Hank supposes it's safe enough to assume that Erik is a befriendable soul. Even if the "all" is a ginormous sample size of two people, but Hank decides to let his inner scientist rest for the sake of his girlfriend.

You see, Hank is here on her behalf. According to her, Erik and Charles have been together happily for five years by now, but, for Christ's Almighty Sake, they never _get on_ with it and _Hank_ can't you _see_ they're so _perfect for each other_ and it's all just so _ugh, Hank,_ I can't _even_.

Raven's been very, very _, very invested_ in her brother's relationship, and his ear's been talked off for goodness knows how many times about their baseless self-doubts and inability to take that _one step further_ , and since he kind of needs his ears to identify bird mating calls in the wild, Hank has decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Oh, by the way, Charles," Hank says. "If you see an old terracotta tablet in one of the two boxes I set for you, uh, leave that alone, if you can."

"Huh? Oh, sure, no problem, Hank," Charles says half-focused, before turning back to feed off of Erik's intense gaze.

Hank supposes it's probably time to go, then. His work is done, for now.

***

Charles hums as he settles down on the floor of the guest bedroom, and pulls the two boxes Hank set aside for him. He's really quite excited; birds are such fascinating creatures, being one of the few organisms that can take to the skies, and Hank's work has never failed to be nothing short of brilliant from all the times Charles has been allowed to see it. His inner molecular biologist is giddy with curiosity.

There's a load of research draft papers that Hank has written, including data and some samples of rare bird feathers and other vials and papers of things about which your author has not quite the knowledge to confidently describe in this -- let's be honest here -- midterms-stress-release fanfiction. But on the other hand, she can confidently assert that Charles is certainly intrigued by the material and is ravenously reading and memorizing all the information when he catches sight of a certain object quite out of place among all the more science-y stuff.

It's a small, dusty beige tablet the size of an average novel, with ancient hieroglyphics engrained into the surfaces with what looks like painstaking time and effort. Its edges are smooth and sanded, except for one side, which is irregularly jagged, as though that part were broken off crudely.

Ah, Charles thinks. This must be the terracotta tablet Hank was talking about it. Charles remembers something about "leaving it alone", which he presumes to mean to "keep it safe".

 _I had better put this in another box then_ , he thinks.

Charles touches it.

***

"Charles! Have you seen my keys?"

Erik calls, checking into the kitchen and the living room and their bedroom and not finding his boyfriend anywhere. Goodness. Where had that idiot gone? He was just putting on his coat in front of the door earlier. He has to be somewhere around the apartment.

"Charles, where are you? I really need those keys! I'm not letting you drive if that's what you're doing. You know what happened last time." Erik doesn't want to talk about it, so the author will respectfully obey his wishes, but let's just say it involved a couple trucks, an ambulance, three hundred helium balloons and an expired pizza.

Erik continues calling for Charles for his misplaced keys because, _god_ , Charles, you're always taking my _keys,_ I'm absolutely _never_ letting you drive _again_ , when he stumbles by their guest bedroom, the door of which has been left ajar. He sees a pile of strangely arranged clothes -- _Charles_ ' clothes the man had just been wearing -- on the floor, as though their owner had been wearing them just moments before disappearing into thin and letting the clothes fall to the ground.

Even more strangely, Erik finds, is that there is a rather confused-looking white dove sitting on top of the clothes, blinking at its surroundings as though it can't seem to understand where it is. It notices Erik, and then it opens its beak to give an awkward peep.

"What have you done to Charles?" Erik asks it, feeling rather lost.

The bird looks shocked, as if that were even possible, and then gives a loud squawk. It flaps its wings in what looks to be frustration and stamps its feet into the blue cardigan. As Erik watches the strange display -- Erik knows zilch about bird behaviour; _is that a mating dance?_ he wonders, vaguely mortified -- before it waddles over to the neck of the cardigan, ducks into it, shuffles around and pops its head out of the neck. It cocks its head and lets out another small peep.

Erik balks.

***

"… _Charles_?" he manages.

The bird… _nods_.

"Oh my god," he says.

Charles fluffs his wings and waddles out of the cardigan. Erik sits down, stunned out of his mind.

"What the hell happened?"

The Charles-dove hangs his head before shuffling over to one of the boxes. He leaps onto one of the edges and, with the tip of his wing, points down into the box. Erik leans over to look, and sees the terracotta tablet. Confused, Erik reaches in to pick it up, but is promptly preempted by Charles squeaking and flapping into his arm and face in a sudden frenzy. Erik bats him off and spits out some feathers. "What the f-- what is it, Charl-- _stop that --_ what is it?!"

Charles goes still. Then, when he's made sure that Erik is watching, Charles dips one wingtip slowly into the box again, touches the tablet gingerly, then dramatically leaps backwards with splayed appendages onto the ground. He flaps his wings against the ground, belly up.

"You… touched the tablet?" Erik asks. Charles bobs eagerly, upright again. "And… got turned into a bird."

His guess is affirmed by another bob.

Erik stares a bit, then falls onto his back, covering his eyes with an arm.

"What the ever loving _fuck_?" he says.

A light pair of tiny feet patters onto his chest and up to his collar bone. Erik lifts his arm and opens one of his eyes to stare into the fluffy white face of the Charles-dove. It looks almost nothing like Charles, except for its blue eyes, and perhaps its pink beak, which could resemble the man's beautiful red lips, if Erik squints a bit.

"We're going to have to cancel our movie date," he says. It's the first thing that comes to his mind. "Pets aren't allowed in the theatre."

Charles plops down on his chest, cooing sadly.

Very gently, Erik cups him up by his soft bird belly and sits upright. "Shh, it's all right. We'll just go over to Hank's right n--"

Oh. _Shit_. Hank's in South America by now, isn't he? He flew out yesterday. Charles seems to realize this too and sinks into his feathers, looking very, very sad.

"We're just going to wait until he comes back. I'm so sorry, Charles. Can you hang in there?"

Charles bobs his head, looking resignedly up at Erik.

Erik sighs, holding his boyfriend in the cup of his hands. The soft, fluffy white belly is warm on his skin, a few feathers brushing against his palms as the bird shifts a bit. The wings are plump and gorgeous, pristinely white, and the face is so innocent and so… _smol_. And cute.

Just like Charles.

Erik smiles at him, and Charles cocks his head in question.

"Well," Erik answers softly, "you're still very beautiful, as a bird _. I_ don't mind at all."

Charles looks at him with wide eyes for a bit, then flutters his eyes coyly, looking for all the world like one of those shy, blushy birds in an old animated Disney princess film.

Erik tells him so.

Charles swats him with his wing.

 


	2. Unmistakeable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be the last end of chapter 1. i forgot to copy and paste the last bit. i'm so annoyed
> 
> so it's a bit short, but it's my favourite part. hope you enjoy!

Erik tries calling that McCoy prick.

No luck.

He's not really bothered as much as he thinks he should be, to be honest. Erik's having an astonishing amount of fun with Charles being a dove, at Charles' expense, and Erik would normally cut off his own dick before doing anything at Charles' expense, but it really can't be helped in this case.

You see, a few days ago, Erik was holding Charles in his left palm -- very delicately, because he still doesn't know how to hold birds, the dove seems so fragile -- and Charles was settled comfortably and plumply in the concave of his hand, cooing and purring as his boyfriend softly petted his head and fluffed his back feathers. They're sitting before their TV, a bowl of popcorn on the side, which both humans and birds can eat, apparently. It was late in the evening, and they had just finished dinner.

"Let me know if there's anything I'm doing that you don't like," Erik said.

Charles' half-lidded eyes did what can only be described as an eye roll.

"Charles, I'm serious. I know nothing about birds."

Charles leaned down and rubbed his beak against Erik's hand reassuringly, before bumping his head into Erik's fingers for more head rubbing. Erik chuckled, indulging him. This was surprisingly stress-relieving, and Charles looked so damn adorable, Erik wasn't sure he could keep up his grudge against McCoy.

Then, something warm and wet plopped onto his left fingers.

Erik frowned, not able to see what it was since Charles' body was blocking it. It felt slimy and a little gross. He looked up at the ceiling, and seeing no possible source up there, looked back down again. "Charles, could you… what is that…?"

Erik nudged him with his right hand and Charles tittered in annoyance as he was made to get up and stopped getting petting treatment. They both turned to look at what had landed on Erik's hand.

It was an opaque whitish blob with bits of dark brown and green floating in it. It was the size of half of one's pinky fingertip. It was gooey in some parts, very liquid in others.

It was unmistakable what it was.

There was about eight seconds of shocked silence, before Erik burst out laughing.

Charles squawked, beak hanging open, eyes wide, his feathers out of place, looking absolutely mortified.

Unfortunately, that only served to make Erik laugh even harder.

Charles squeaked in panic and protest, but Erik couldn't stop, he really couldn't, it was just too fucking funny, and if any bird could blush, Charles certainly looked like he did, and when Erik's stomach was about to turn inside out from the all the laughter, Charles squawked once more before flapping his wings frantically to fly away into some nook up in one of their shelves.

Erik was still laughing. He was imagining Charles' face as a human at this embarrassment, all red-cheeked and teary-eyed and pouting and cute and… and… oh man, he needed to calm down, or he was going to pull a muscle.

Still chuckling, Erik got up to clean his hands, before returning to his seat on the couch and calling up at the direction where Charles had flown away to.

"Charles?" Erik said, a snicker accidentally sneaking out at the end of the name. Oh well. "Charles, you can come down."

There was no answer.

Erik sighed. "Charles, it's fine, it's understandable. Birds poop everywhere, don't they? You can't control your… your hole. It's not your fault. We've been to the beach, we've met seagulls, and your poop is a lot more pleasant than theirs. I'd know this. You were there."

Still no answer.

Erik left him be, sympathizing a bit. Charles' delicate British sensibilities and pride had just been temporarily ruined, and those two things were a pretty big deal to Charles' sense of self, no matter how self-deprecating or humble he generally projected himself to be. They were also part of the package that Erik loved so much, so Erik decided to give him a bit of space.

But Charles refused to look or get close to him for two entire days, and Erik's patience began running a bit thin.

"Charles, really. How long are you going to be there for?"

Charles was cooped up behind a plant vase on the top of their highest bookshelf. Erik could see the little tuft of a white feathery tush.

"Charles, come down. For Christ's sake, Charles, everyone poops!"

The white tushy wiggles.

Erik exhaled. "Charles. I still love you very much, if that's what you're worried about. Come on. I miss you," he added, quietly.

The tushy seemed to hesitate, but a few moments later, Charles peeked a shy fluffy head out from behind the vase.

Erik smiled. He reached out with a beckoning hand. "Come."

Charles-dove huffed a bit, before it shuffled to the edge of the shelf and fluttered down, landing neatly on Erik's fingers. He still wouldn't look at Erik though, blinking sadly and embarrassedly at the ground.

"Charles…" Erik said, sitting down on a chair. "Was that it? You were worried that I wouldn't love you… for pooping on my hand?"

Charles twitched.

Erik wanted to coo at him, but that was not Erik-behaviour and he drew the line there. Though Erik did lean in close, forcing his eyes to be in Charles' peripheral vision, and then he closed the distance to place a tender, gentle kiss on Charles' head.

Charles seemed to be mollified after that.

That was, as stated before, a few days ago.

Currently, Erik is sighing in frustration as he puts down the phone after the McCoy prick's number rang unavailable for the fifteenth time today.

Charles has accidentally pooped on their beloved chess set -- it was Erik's Valentine's Day present to him -- and is currently, once again, hiding away from Erik in mortification.

***


	3. Charl no

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMFG LOOK AT THE WORD COUNT (word count: 6666)

Erik slowly opens his eyes, letting his consciousness slide back into reality, feeling the warmth and homely fragrance of their bed. He feels kind of hard. Instinctively, he reaches to his right for a morning cuddle with his boyfriend, and stops short at the empty space.

Erik sighs as he opens his eyes, and then frowns to see, on the edge of the ceiling light,  a white ball of puff that wasn't there before.

"Wha--?" he begins, before the white ball launches itself off straight towards--

Erik yelps in pain as Charles lands rather heavily on his sensitive bulge. Charles is surprisingly plump.

"What are you doing?" he sputters, bewildered. "Do you want to cripple my manhood?"

In answer, Charles-dove rolls his eyes, shuffles a bit to get into some kind of position, and then very sensually -- for a bird, that is -- drags his puffed white breast up along Erik's hardness. An unexpectedly delightful shiver rolls up Erik's abdomen and spine.

Erik blanches.

"Wha-- f-- no, Charles, I am not having sex with you in that form. _Jesus_. That's--  _no, no_ , and  _no._ Mein  _gott_ ," Erik squawks in panic. He scoots Charles away from his stiff miniature.

Charles pouts, looking miffed.

But again, Charles looks so adorable that Erik can't help softening a little -- just his heart, mind you -- and gently cups his birdie boyfriend up with both of his hands. Charles looks at him unhappily with a side-eye. Erik brings his face close to Charles' body and nuzzles his nose into Charles' fluffy white breast. Charles gives a soft cheep.

"Besides," Erik says quietly, "that wouldn't be fair, would it? I'd be the only one getting the pleasure." Erik frowns. That sounded wrong. "Well, no, I mean, I'm not into  _bestiality,_ that's -- ugh, forget it." Erik flushes, a little horrified at himself.

Charles coos with laughter, and forgives him.

Later, Charles insists on getting into the bathroom with him while he showers. At first, Erik refuses, afraid that the humidity and the razors and the bottles might injure him, somehow, but when Erik voices his concerns, Charles swats at him angrily and calls so loudly that Erik feels bad for no discernible reason and gives in. Also, Charles wouldn't stop sticking his wing into the doorway before Erik can close it, so unless Erik wanted to have chicken wings for dinner, he had to relent, at some point.

("You're a desperate perv, aren't you," Erik says to Charles. Charles sticks his tiny tongue out.)

Charles-the-bird obviously physically cannot tolerate or deal with the heavy hot storm that is the man-made shower, so Erik plugs the sink and creates a makeshift bath of lukewarm water for Charles to play and bathe in. Erik has no fucking clue if that's ok or not to do for a pet bird, but Charles seems happy enough, splashing about the tiny sink, and Erik leaves him there as he prepares for his own shower.

He's naked, in the tub, about to close the shower curtains before Charles squawks loudly.

Erik looks at him, worried. "What is it?" he says. "Is something wrong?"

Charles shakes his head, but keeps looking at him expectantly over the edge of the sink.

Erik waits for a better answer, but when nothing comes, he shrugs and tugs the shower curtains close.

Charles squawks again.

Erik opens the curtains. " _What?_ "

Charles looks at him with big blue eyes.

"What?" Erik says again, confused. "Charles, I know you can't use words, but at least give me some kind of answer. If you won't, then I'm going to take my shower, thanks." He starts tugging the curtains shut again, but Charles squawks, _again_ , and this time wouldn't stop until Erik tugs it back open.

" _Charles,_ " he says, exasperated. "What do you--" He looks at the curtains, still crumpled in his hands. "Oh."

Charles peeps.

Erik stares at him. "You are such a -- such -- you're such a pervert," he manages. Even as a human, Charles might have been lewd, and hornier than is normal, but this is beyond even that. "Mein  _gott._ "

Charles shuffles, embarrassed.

Erik sighs. "Charles. I'm flattered that you find me so visually… attractive -- I really am -- but if I don't close the curtains, I'm going to get water all over the place. We could get  _mold._ "

Charles looks at him for a moment. Then he huffs sadly and turns back around into his sink-bath.

"Sorry," Erik can't help muttering as he finally closes the curtains in peace.

Everything is so  _bizarre._ He doesn't even know anymore.

*** 

Because Charles was considerate enough to try to relieve him of his morning wood, generous enough to want to take care of Erik's undoubtedly unsatisfied sex life since the unexpected feathery twist to their relationship, Erik thinks he should return the favour and try to pleasure Charles, too.

( _No_ , he's not going to fuck a bird)

Anyway, that's how Erik's sitting in front of his laptop googling "bird pleasure spots" at two in the afternoon, while Charles is napping in a small cushion by the warm fan of his computer.

He's a bit frustrated.

There's almost nothing on "bird pleasure spots". Heck, it doesn't even seem like birds have them; all his search hits are about bird mating behaviours, pet bird do's, pet bird don'ts, and even a couple of websites about bird resorts, which are such a strange concept in and of itself that Erik wonders how people were given the permission to even pitch the idea in the first place.

Bird mating behaviour articles are the only slightly more useful information that he's found, and from what he can sum up, it basically goes: they gauge each other, then preen each other's feathers, then kiss (or "beak"), and then go right on to humping each other.

For a few moments, Erik wonders if he should touch the tablet and turn into a bird himself.

Then there are other articles warning against petting birds on certain areas of the body because it would elicit mating behaviour that "you as a human owner cannot satiate and would thus be unintentionally inducing the avian equivalent of sexual frustration, which could ultimately manifest as uncontrollable 'naughtiness'."

Erik scoffs.

That's _stupid_. Charles is his  _boyfriend_. That's exactly what he  _wants_.

Feeling rebellious, Erik proceeds to search up all the bird petting spots that are apparently tabooed for that very reason, and diligently notes them down.

When Charles awakes, blinking sleepily, Erik shuts down his computer and begins gently, with one finger, ruffling Charles' head. Charles chirps and smacks his beak, lazily leaning into Erik's touch. Erik slowly works his finger so that he's not pressing too hard, but also not too softly either, so that it's _just right_ , and moves down Charles' neck. Charles-dove warbles happily, eyes almost closed, beak hanging slightly open in pleasure.

Apparently, even though Charles is a "human", he's still heavily influenced by his bird physiology. Preening seems to be the closest thing Erik can find to birdly pleasure.

In fact, Erik seems to be so good with his massage that Charles slowly lies his head down onto the desk and spreads his body for Erik to massage the rest, and Erik gladly obliges, carding his fingers through the plumage, chuckling when Charles squeaks and trembles at a certain spot on his lower back.

By the end of the session, Charles is but a warm white fluffball of putty, sighing and cooing excessively in half-conscious pleasure, eyes half-lidded and beak open in what can only be taken as a blissed-out smile.

"Did you like that?" Erik asks, smirking, giving his belly another rub.

Charles coos.

***

There's no roundabout way of approaching this, Erik thinks. Better hit it straight.

"Charles, you're getting fat," Erik says.

Charles stops eating, startled.

"No, I'm -- I'm not being mean, or deriding you, Charles," Erik quickly says. The blue eyes are large and very  _hurt._ They are powerful. "I'm serious. It's only been a week and a half, but you're -- well, you're a lot bigger than before. Um. A lot."

It's true. In the beginning, Charles was big enough to just fit into Erik's cupped hands, but now, Charles' belly spills noticeably over the edges of his fingers when Erik holds him. The extra weight doesn't look bad, however; in fact, Charles has never looked more adorable, with his plump cheeks and fluffy white belly, and Erik would have happily allowed him to continue getting bigger were it not for the dangerous health consequences associated with such a sudden and drastic weight change.

"I think you have to start eating less," Erik says.

Charles squawks indignantly at him. He squaddles around his food dish of trail mix and fruits and shields it from Erik's sight.

"Look," Erik tries again patiently, gesturing with his hands. Charles moves closer to his food. "You were -- Charles _, I'm not going to take your food, get out of the dish before you get nuts on your feathers_  -- a week ago, you were this big--" he circles his hands around an invisible pre-Charles-dove "--but now you're…" he compares the invisible pre-Charles-dove to the live one.

Charles simply looks at him for a moment, trembling slightly, before turning around with a sudden huff and flying off into the living room.

"Wha-- Charles, come back!" Erik calls after him. When, as expected, there is no answer, Erik gets up to seek his huffy boyfriend out.

These few days, Charles seems to be running high on some kind of hormonally induced behavioral change. Charles never threw fits or got angry easily or avoided Erik unless they had a terrible, planet-splitting argument. But in the past several days, Erik can't seen to do anything without making his boyfriend unhappy.

"Charles, I'm sorry," Erik calls sincerely. "I'm not trying to be mean to you. I'm really sorry if that hurt. It's just... you're a biologist, you know it's bad to gain so much weight so quickly. You actually look incredibly -- cute. Um." Erik blushes. "But I'm just... worried."

He doesn't get any answer for a few moments, but then there's a small peep, a rush of feathers, and Erik finds Charles sitting on his shoulder, rubbing his head again Erik's cheek. Charles' coos sound apologetic.

Erik gently takes him off his shoulder and places him in his lap as he sits down on the couch. He ruffles the white feathers as Charles warbles quietly to him, snuggling into Erik's warm palms.

"We've got a few more days before McCoy comes back," Erik says softly. "Just hang in there, 'kay?"

Charles chirps in agreement.

"Do you think the weight's going to carry over to your human version?" Erik asks suddenly.

Charles nips him.

"Ow! Charles! It's not as though it's going to make a difference," he says. "I'm just curio--"

_Plop!_

Something hard and warm and circular drops into Erik's lap. Charles has gone rigid, eyes wide.

They both turn to look at the mysteries object, which is--

\--an  _egg._

There's exactly three whole minutes of shocked silence.

And then Erik can't help it.

He's laughing again.

*

 _Oh, fuck,_ Erik thinks, wiping his tears and massaging his aching stomach. _Charles is probably going to hate me._  Still, he can't control the sporadic chuckle that escapes his throat. The white, pinkish egg is nestled delicately in his hand. Despite Erik's fit, he's been very careful not to break it.

No matter how beautifully hilarious this situation has been -- Erik's thinking about thanking McCoy by now; his grudge is all but gone -- it's something Charles made, something that represents Charles having the potential to create _life_ , and Erik thinks that's pretty amazing.

Charles  _made_  it, and Erik's going to keep it.

If only to taunt him with later.

Erik looks around for Charles, who flapped away in mortified outright panic right when Erik started hooting his mirth. Charles didn't stray far, fortunately; Erik finds him tucked up in a corner under his work desk, head under his wing, cooing very, very sadly, very quietly.

"Oh, Charles… " Erik says, smiling, his heart melting at the painfully adorable sight. He picks the dove up, and Charles doesn't resist, though he does keep his head hidden under his wing. "What's wrong with being a female bird? I think it's wonderful."

Charles peeks out an eye, looking at him mournfully. His big blue eyes glistens suspiciously with what seems like tears.

Erik brings him close and tries his best to give Charles a snuggly hug with his chest and arms, burying his face into Charles' soft fragrant plumage. "There's nothing wrong with laying eggs. That's _life_. You've always loved children, Charles, and I do too. You've got nothing to worry about. Nothing's changed and the egg isn't going to hatch -- wait, it won't, right?" Erik draws back from his hug. There aren't any male birds around to impregnate Charles, but all the same, the very thought of there being a  _possibility_  has ignited a terrible flame of jealousy in his chest.

Should he have touched the tablet, after all?

Charles-dove sighs very, very loudly and rolls his eyes.

Erik's jealousy winds down a notch.

Still, Erik muses as he pets his boyfriend, he's going to have to be more careful now. Charles being a  _female_ bird has, somehow, gotten him feeling even more protective than before.

 

***

"McCoy, you fucker," Erik says.

Hank looks visibly shaken. Erik silently gives him props for not bolting right there and then. "I-I'm sorry?"

"Come in," Erik sighs, leaving the door open as he turns around to go to the kitchen.

The ornithologist wavers, but the tension in his shoulders seems to deflate with resignation as he steps over the threshold. Hank's still holding onto some sort of wrapped gift rather tightly in his hands. He looks around their apartment, unsure. "Um, this is for Charles. And you, of course. For. Well. For looking after my stuff while I was away," he says.

At the sound of his name, Charles comes flapping out of the living room, twittering happily with what seems to be birdly welcome. He lands on Hank's gift and looks expectantly up at the bird expert.

Hank's eyes grow wide. "You -- um -- you have a bird now, Erik?"

Charles stops twittering, looking crestfallen.

Erik comes out of the kitchen bearing a tray of tea. "Come sit down. We have lots to discuss."

Hank follows nervously, bringing the dove with him.

"Including," Erik emphasizes, sitting down and reaching for his cup, "my boyfriend, who you're holding there. Don't give me that look. You're going to tell me how to turn him back and what the hell that tablet is, or you're not getting out of here alive. I know you know it." Erik throws in a teethy grin for good measure.

Hank swallows in fear. Charles looks at him with pitying eyes before flying onto Erik's shoulder and cheeping in gentle protest at Erik's atrocious manners.

"What, you don't want to turn back?" Erik asks.

Charles pouts, folding his wings with a  _look._

Erik ignores the un-ignorable blue eyes in favor of staring intensely at the culprit in question. "Well?"

"I..." Hank begins hesitantly. "How do you want to start?"

Erik sighs. "First thing, what is it?"

"The tablet?" Hank asks. Erik nods. "It's a relic from a small South American civilization that's long gone, and I was doing some thesis work when I found it. It seems like the culture heavily worshipped birds, and from the inscriptions on it, I believe it may have been used in sacred ceremonies. Or curses, I'm not sure."

"Curses?" Erik repeats, incredulous. "I thought you were a  _scientist?_ "

"That's what it says on the tablet," Hank defends with a weak voice. "And because in science, you don't just transform from one species to another, let alone between -- anything, so the only explanation I have is... um, magic." Hank grimaces.

"Magic," Erik says.

"Magic," Hank repeats. "Yes."

Charles looks rapidly between his boyfriend and his neighbor, eyes wide.

"I have two more questions," Erik says after a while. "First, does the inscription say anything about reversion? And second, why in the bloody name of all things alive did you give it to us without explaining properly?"

"To your second question," Hank says carefully. "I couldn't just leave something like that  in my apartment, as you know, and I trust Charles. And I did say to leave it alone, but you two were... well."

Charles hunches a little, and even Erik feels momentarily embarrassed.

"As to your first question," Hank continues, "you've the seen the tablet, right?"

Both Erik and Charles nod.

"There's a part that's broken off, and that's the part that should have the solution to the, ah, problem, but that's a problem in itself now, isn't it. I tried looking for it, but it's been ground up by a boulder and the analytical techniques that could gi -- sorry, what I mean to say is that I don't have an answer. It could be anything. I'm really sorry."

Erik stares at Hank, mind blank, but the expected anger doesn't come. Instead, he's feeling more of an "oh" and a "well, I guess we'll just have to work at it, then".

"Well, I guess we'll just have to work at it, then," Erik says calmly.

Both Charles and Hank stare back at him, mouth and beak opening in confused surprise.

"Y-you're not angry?"

Erik shrugs. "Do you want me to be?"

"No! No, of course not, but… your boyfriend. He's a bird."

"Oh really? I couldn't tell," Erik says dryly. He rolls his eyes and then replies more seriously, "Nothing's changed all that much, to be honest." Secretly, he actually wants to spend a bit more time with Charles in his bird form, because this Charles, with all his pouts and feather-ruffling and preening and fluffy waddles, is so _fucking cute_  that Erik isn't  _that_ violently opposed to the current situation. Of course, he still wants his human Charles back more, but the urgency isn't as strong as before. "Besides the bedroom life, that is."

Hank blushes.

"And there's been many rather...  _memorable_  moments these past couple of weeks that I'd like to thank you for, Hank. Did you know Charles turned out to be a fe--"

Suddenly, Charles flaps his wings at Erik, squawking furiously and stomping his tiny claws all over Erik's shoulder. Erik gets nipped on the ear and a mouthful of feathers.

"Ack! Stop, stop, okay, I won't," Erik protests, but he can't help smirking. "But it was memorable, Charles. It's given me a lot of fond memories of you, and I wouldn't trade those for the world."

Still, Charles keeps squawking at him, stomping his little feet, opening and closing his wings. When Erik doesn't take back his statements, Charles goes quiet, but he's breathing rapidly, looking almost betrayed, eyes shiny and his small white breast heaving.

"Charles...?" Erik says, frowning with concern, mirth fading away. He reaches out, but Charles trembles a bit, and then flies away.

Erik looks at Hank. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Well," Hank fidgets nervously. "I would imagine he's pretty frustrated with his situation, and…"

"And I made fun of him," Erik sighs. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "This isn't permanent, is it? Do you really have no idea how to turn him back?"

Hank hesitates, thinking, but shakes his head in the end. "I'm really sorry. But…"

"What?"

"I'm an ornithologist. I can show you some ways to take care of a bird," Hank says. "It's the least I can do."

*

Apparently, Hank is an _excellent_ bird petter.

Of course, Erik gets jealous.

If Charles became feathery white putty in Erik's hands last week during the petting session, Charles became cooing  _liquid_  in Hank's.

"Thank you you may leave now," Erik grits through his teeth, pushing Hank out the door.

Charles sits up weakly, still woozy and wobbly from the bird expert's magic. He chirps a weak admonishment at Erik's direction but his boyfriend pays him no mind.

"O-okay, sorry again," Hank says, as he reaches the door. "Um. I'll see you later?"

Erik glares at him, and considers throwing him out the door, suddenly angry about the Bird Situation that he was just professing to like an hour ago -- Hank wouldn't have touched his boyfriend like that if Charles weren't a bird -- but years of living with Charles has instilled at least the basic human manners into Erik's rigid skull, and he generously allows Hank to live. "Sure. Take care," he lies.

Hank nods, apologetic, and flees down the hall.

Erik sighs as he closes the door, and goes back to Charles, who is sitting on his bum with his wings splayed out casually on the sides. He leans into Erik's finger as it trails down his neck.

"Was Hank really good for you?" Erik asks painfully. He's no bird expert in the least, and Erik, despite his jealousy, wonders if it'd be better to place Charles in more capable hands. "I know nothing about birds, and he might be able to take care of you better. I don't know what I'm doing, and the internet is not at all trustworthy compared to a real bird expert -- ow! Wha--?"

Charles has nipped him quite forcefully as Erik spoke, looking at Erik with stern eyes. He stamps one of his feet, a soft tap on the sofa.

"What?"

Feathers ruffled, Charles suddenly launches himself into Erik's chest, then climbs up and burrows himself into the neck of Erik's sweater. A moment later, his tiny white head plops out and squeaks up at him. Beneath the sweater, Erik can feel his wings spread out and wrap over his chest in a makeshift hug.

"It's okay here?"

Charles stares up at him with narrowed eyes for a minute, then rolls them before laying his head on Erik's collar bone with an exasperated huff.

Smiling softly and inclining his head, Erik buries his lips in the fluffy white plumage, and Charles gives a muffled chirp.

Erik supposes it doesn't hurt to stay like this a  little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy ending next chapter
> 
> does charl get turned back? does ERIK get to join charl in birbhood???
> 
> find out next on dragonbirb Z


	4. not a birb anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right so i planned to have this posted before 2016, around Christmas, which figures a bit in this chapter, and look where we are
> 
> i also originally planned to colour all the pictures, which i drew...several months ago (I finished writing this almost a year ago), and do a proper cover art for this fic, but. I really just can't be bothered.
> 
> please enjoy the crack

It's the annual mandatory Christmas party at Erik's office, and it's a full day event. Erik doesn't want to leave his bird boyfriend at home by himself for eight hours, and besides, Erik always brings Charles along every year. Even though Charles doesn't work there, he's the most popular person in the office, and his presence usually meant Erik could be the wallflower he strived to be in any social event. Frankly, Erik's a bit apprehensive about the party this year because of Charles' apparent absence, and he hopes Charles-dove can do equally well what Charles-human did.

With Charles perched inside the collar of Erik's jacket, they drive to Magneto Inc. and enter the warmly lit building in which the party was already in full swing.

"Where's Charles?" is the first thing he's asked, and Erik sighs.

"He's… terribly sick today, so he couldn't make it. But he, uh, wanted me to bring our pet dove in his place." Gently, Erik cups Charles out of his collar. Charles ruffles his feathers and gives a peep at his audience, who immediately coos and squeals over him. Even as a bird, Charles oozes charisma.

Having successfully directed the majority of the attention away from himself, Erik thinks he can finally start enjoying the party, until he realizes that, well, he didn't really think this through. There's no way Erik would let Charles be physically separated from him like he would when Charles was human, so the excess attention Charles is gaining from being fluffy and soft and extra adorable is also very in Erik's face.

Miraculously, he spots Emma Frost over the massive crowd that surrounds him, and he makes a face that hopefully conveys the horror of his situation. She nods, understanding, and drops the glass she's holding.

The crash is loud and startling enough that the crowd's attention is momentarily stolen, and Emma takes the chance to stick a hand in and pull Erik out.

"Thanks," Erik pants.

"No problem, sugar," she says, straightening her white leather jacket. "I don't see Charles anywhere, and you're not that charming to draw such a loving crowd. What's happened?"

"Oh, it's Cha - my bird," Erik says, taking Charles out of from under his jacket, where he had carefully hidden Charles while the crowd was distracted. Charles squinted up at Emma and peeped. "See?"

Emma frowns. "I'm not sure where to even start."

"What?"

"A bird. Why would you bring your pet bird to a work party? That's so… _random_."

"Huh. I guess it is." Erik shrugs. He places Charles on his shoulder, suddenly not wanting to talk about this. "Whatever. Anyway, did you take a look at that report I emailed you?"

And then they easily slip into conversation. He and Emma have known each other since middle school, when they were two condescending little teenagers, too smart and scornful of the other children, twin souls with a common hatred for the shallow world.

Somewhere in the middle of the conversation Charles begins tapping his tushy against Erik's neck and pecking his earlobe.

"Do you need something?" Erik asks, slightly irritated at the interruption. Emma was just telling an amazing story about her neighbor's bratty son, who got sent to the hospital from starvation because he was too lazy to cook for himself when his parents went on vacation.

Charles simply blinks up at him with big blue eyes.

"What?"

Charles ruffles his feathers impatiently and stamps one foot. Erik shakes his head, confused, and Emma laughs.

"Erik Lehnsherr, talking to a _bird_! You don't even talk to humans sometimes."

Erik glares tiredly at her. " _You_ try living with a bird for a while."

Charles makes a little gasp.

Erik turns to him again. "What?" he says again, patience slightly thin. His repressed frustrations at not being able to have a fully understandable conversation with his boyfriend for two entire months pokes at the surface in a room full of noise and people and stress.

Charles turns away with a little huff and plops down his belly.

Not exactly wanting to look insane by going into a serious emotional lecture on a _bird_ , Erik ignores him and turns back to Emma. "Anyway, what were you saying about the kid?"

Emma's the only one besides Charles who can hold a conversation with him without having a nervous breakdown, and as the conversation draws Erik's full attention in again, he temporarily forgets Charles' presence.

He doesn't know if Charles tried tapping at him again to get his attention and if he probably accidentally ignored it, but somewhere in the middle of a new conversation of Emma and Erik laughing and gossiping over the current dismal lives of their high school classmates, Charles suddenly flaps off of Erik's shoulder, flies over Emma, drops a small white load onto her jacket, and zooms out an open window.

Erik stares with his mouth open.

Emma looks like she can't quite believe a bird would have the audacity to commit such a crime.

"Charles!" Erik yells when he comes to his senses. A bunch of confused faces turns to him, but he couldn't really care. His poor Charles is out right now flying through the cold December weather…

He turns to grab his coat. "I'm so sorry, Emma," he apologizes and throws a packet of napkins at her. "I'm not sure what's gotten into him. He's never been this…  anyway. Sorry."

Emma nods slowly, still in a state of disbelief.

Erik leaves before she can recover and bite his ear off about her jacket - Emma is very _particular_ about her clothing - and rushes to the door, only to be stopped by his manager.

"Erik, my boy! What's the hurry? We've only just started!"

"Sorry sir, I just remembered I forgot something, I need to - "

"Nonsense! It's Christmas, whatever worries can wait. Come, enjoy the party!"

"Sir, please…"

Ten minutes later, Erik is finally able to extricate himself and get into the car. Erik is slightly panicking; Charles could be passed out, frozen, _dead_ …

Charles is sitting in the passenger seat, head ducked into his wing, his tushy pointedly facing the driver's position.

Erik exhales.

"Charles," Erik says. "You scared me."

Charles doesn't move.

"What's gotten into you, Charles?" He reaches out to touch one of the feathers on Charles' butt.

The tushy twitches, and then Charles shuffles further away from Erik's hand.

"Charles, are you…" Erik trails off, suddenly hit by a revelation. "Are you _sulking_?" When Charles doesn't answer, the irritation previously bubbling in Erik's chest evaporates to be replaced by tenderness and amusement. "Charles, I've talked about Emma at home. We've known each other for a long time. You know that we're - god, Charles, I can't believe I even have to say this - we're nothing more than friends. Come on, Charles, please."

Charles huffed.

"Charles…"

His boyfriend makes a sound suspiciously like a wet sniff, and then before Erik can react Charles spreads his wings and flies out the open window.

"Charles!" Erik yells. "Charles! Come back! It's freezing out there! You're not a wild bird! _Charles!_ "

Panic coursing through him like a river, Erik gets out of the car to follow where Charles had flown off to. The falling snow makes it nearly impossible to distinguish a white dove from the white surroundings, and Erik thinks about marking his boyfriend with a neon felt pen next time. A glittery tag. Something. This is entirely too dangerous.

"Charles!"

There is, of course, no answer, and Erik keeps walking in the same direction, hoping Charles would come to him, hoping he might somehow spot the bird. Doves aren't exactly a wild, native species of New York.

Cars honk, choirs sing, snow falls. Hours pass. Still no sign of Charles.

Erik is on the verge of going on a rampage and flipping every building apart to find this stubborn idiot. _Charles Charles Charles Charles Charles please Charles please come back Charles Charles_ \--

 

*

Erik looks at his watch and sees that it is 1 am in the morning. He half believes Charles is dead, and he's aware that he's been crying from his panic. Erik realizes he's so cold he's numb; he left his jacket in the car when he went off to pursue Charles. He's also extremely exhausted, and he sits down on some concrete steps on the side. The relief of his butt and leg muscles is delicious, and the slight bit of shielding the walls on either side of the steps provide him from the wind allows him to find a wisp of body heat. He suddenly feels warm, and cozy, and he leans against a wall, eyes closing, granting himself just a couple minutes of sleep, thinking _Charles_ …

He wakes not a few seconds later to a miniature storm of white feathers and squawks and painful beak taps on his face.

Erik blinks a few times, before he registers the situation. "Charles?"

The dove continues to squawk and swat at him, tugging on Erik's flimsy turtleneck with his beak.

"Charles… Charles… you came back. You came back. You're okay." Erik brings up his senseless fingers to cup Charles up, and then he bursts into fresh tears in Charles' fluffy warm body.

"Don't leave like that again," he whispers.

Charles peeps quietly into his neck, wings out to radiate a small bit of warmth.

***

Erik sniffs, feeling rather terrible.

After the Christmas party incident last night, they went home and Erik toppled into bed right as he entered the apartment, and fell asleep with Charles perched on his chest.

This morning, there is a fire demon in his throat and a battering ram in his head.

"Mrghhhh," he moans, and then breaks a hacking cough.

A small warm weight lands on his chest. Erik peeks a sticky eye open and sees two bright blue eyes staring worriedly at him.

"Charles," he says, and relief blooms in his eyes. "You're here."

Charles chirps impatiently, as though to say _of course I'm here, you idiot_.

Erik sighs and nuzzles his cheeks against Charles' little head. His limbs are too sore at the moment to make their way out of the blanket they're cocooned in. "I'm sick."

Charles headbutts into his chest. Birds can't cry but Charles looks pretty close to it. The dove lays down on his chest and looks at up at him mournfully, cooing worriedly.

"It's fine, Charles. I'll get better. Just a bit of a cold. I had it coming after last night."

But he doesn't get better. In fact, he gets a lot worse a few hours later, and he feels a little bit delirious.

"You look like a marshmallow," Erik giggles as he pokes Charles' chest.

Charles looks at him with big wide eyes, shaking, before flying out of the bedroom.

"Charles…" Erik calls weakly, before falling asleep once again.

*

The smell of burnt iron wakes him up.

Erik looks at the clock and sees that it he's slept for another ten hours.

He feels a lot better.

Cautiously, he drags himself out of the bedroom to search out Charles and the source of the smell.

"Charles," he calls out of habit by now as he pulls on a fresh pair of pants and shirt. When he doesn't get any answer, he pads out into the living room and sees smoke coming out of the kitchen.

He rushes into the kitchen, and the sight that meets him nearly gives him a heart attack.

Charles is flapping frantically and trying to drag pieces of pre-chopped chicken meat into a boiling pot of water on the stove. He's spilled some already around the pot, where the meat is beginning to singe black. A couple of feathers on Charles' butt is singed as well. A small drop of hot water splashes out from the pot and onto Charles' head, and Charles squeaks.

" _Charles_!" Erik jumps forth and snatches Charles out from certain death and turns off the stove.

They sit down on the kitchen flower, Erik panting and Charles heaving. Erik feels a little bit sick again from the whole ordeal.

"Charles, I do like bird meat, and I appreciate your effort, but I'm pretty sure you know I'm only partial to birds that aren't _my boyfriend."_

Charles titters.

***

"Charles, are you sulking again?"

Charles huffs and keeps his butt stuck out at Erik.

"Charles…"

Charles sinks his head into his feathers.

Erik sighs and lifts him, ignoring his coos of protest. "Charles, what's wrong this time?" Erik kisses him on his warm fluffy head, and that seems to mollify Charles a bit.

After a moment, Charles closes his eyes and bumps his head against Erik's chin. Erik takes him to his laptop and opens up a word document.

"I should have thought of this before. Here, talk to me this way."

Charles peeps delightedly at this new method of communication and hops from key to key.

Erik is very mesmerized by the wiggling bird butt. He reaches out to nudge it and Charles squeaks indignantly. The document is now full of gibberish. Charles looks at him and huffs angrily, as if to say _look at what you've done_.

Erik laughs and tries to pet him again, but Charles dodges and then nips him.

"All right! All right. I'm sorry. Carry on. I'm going to grab a drink."

When he comes back with a can of orange juice in his hand, Charles seems to start from where he was looking a little lost on the keyboard. When Erik pulls out the chair and sits down, the bird gives a small sigh and steps away to reveal what is written on the screen.

 _Erik_ , it starts. _It's been three months already. It's not been easy for me, but I know it's been harder on you. I'm practically a helpless pet, and I've caused you so much trouble in this form. I can't control my bowel movements. I can't control the animalistic instincts that I normally could as a human. I've even made you so bloody sick you looked like you were near death, and I couldn't do a single thing._

_What if I never turn back? What if you'll never see me again? What if you… lost interest and find someone you can actually be with? You seemed so happy and relieved at the Christmas party with Emma. Someone you could talk to. I can't be that for you. I've been such an inadequate boyfriend, if you can even call me that now._

"Charles…" Erik breathed, chest tightening.

Charles looks away and blinks sadly.

"Charles, Charles…" Erik says, gathering his sad bird butt of a boyfriend up into his arms, where he cuddles him as best he could without squashing the marshmallow body. "Charles, we'll find a way to turn you back. There has to be a way. And even if there wasn't, it doesn't matter, because you're the only one I can be with. Maybe it's been a little hard on the both of us, but I don't love you any less for that. Emma might be a good friend, but she can never replace what you give me. Charles, I love you. Please don't think that way. Please don't be so sad."

Trembling, Charles makes a soft warbling noise that sounds suspiciously like broken sobs.

Erik feels a rush of affection and cuddles him even harder. Charles is so _cute_. "Charles. Charles, dammit, you know I'd never leave you. I'd marry you in your form if you're like this for the rest of your life." And he meant it.

The warbles stop suddenly and Charles drops his beak in surprise.

Before Erik can ask, there's a _poof_ ! and a _crash_ ! and when Erik opens his eyes again, he's lying flat on the ground with decidedly naked _human_ Charles sitting atop his chest.

Erik is aware his mouth is open.

Charles' mouth is open too, and he's staring at himself in shock and wonder, wriggling his fingers and touching himself and touching himself, squeezing and pinching, and then Charles' big, blue, watery, human, familiar, _beautiful_ eyes snap to Erik's.

"Oh -- oh _Erik_ \--" Charles's voice hitches, and he crushes Erik in a hug, his face buried in his neck, sobbing.

Erik brings his arms around his boyfriend and hugs him equally tightly, chest exploding with a cornucopia of emotions and feeling his own eyes water as well.

"I've got you. I've got you."

Erik brings Charles' wet face out of his neck with a gentle palm, and then guides it down to kiss him fiercely, pouring out all his soul.

"I love you."

 

***

Hank apparently knew.

"Sorry. I thought it'd be funny."

"Funny? Charles nearly got himself _cooked_ ," Erik seethed.

Hank shrugs and points to Raven, who giggles.

Charles is decidedly unamused. "Please explain, or I shall never invite you two here again."

Their two guests pale, mirth gone.

"Fine," Raven says. "It was my idea. Hank told me about this tablet, and, well, I didn't know how real it was, but it seemed actual things have happened with it before. I thought it was a good idea to try. And it seems I was right." She eyes the rings on Charles' and Erik's fingers, rings that weren't there the last time she'd seen them.

Erik and Charles both raise an eyebrow.

Raven huffs. "Hank lied."

"What - "

"I told him to lie. He has the second half of the tablet. The tablet's for couples who can't get their shit together, and you two have been together for so long but neither of you has ever made a serious _move_. It was getting kind of annoying see you two live together and call each other boyfriend but still pining like the idiots you were even before you got together."

"What?" they both say dumbly.

"Marriage!" Raven cries. "Charles, you wanted Erik to ask you to marry you! You've even complained to me about it when you were drunk!"

Charles gasped. "I did not!"

"Yes you did! 'Erik doesn't talk about it. Erik doesn't even mention it. Oh whatever will I do?' " Raven does a dramatic imitation of Charles' accent while her brother sputters, blushing. "So I thought I'd take the situation into my own hands."

Hank coughs.

"Well, okay, Hank made it happen." Raven leans over to give a quick peck on Hank, who blushes. "Anyway, the second part of the tablet, which Hank has, says that once the cursed person gets what they want from their other half of their relationship, the curse gets lifted."

"Oh." Erik and Charles both stare at their rings, and blush. Charles blushes a little bit harder.

"Ye."

"Right," Charles says, clearing his throat. "Raven, you're not really the superstitious type. You call those things bogus. What… have you heard that made you believe this to try it so seriously?"

For the first time today, Raven looks sheepish. "Hank and I tried it."

"What?"

"Well, you can't actually believe I'd do this to you without making sure it's real, do you? What kind of a loving sister would I be?"

"A crazy one either way," Erik remarks.

Raven ignores him. "But we got it over quickly because Hank and I knew about the second part of the tablet. And we were pretty quick to figure ourselves out." She and Hank exchange a sly smile.

"And that was…?"

"Private," Raven says firmly.

"Anyway," Hank interjects, ears red, "you two are officially off the hook for this tablet. Well, at least Charles is immune now. He can touch it whenever he wants. I'm not sure about Erik."

Charles frowns. "What do you mean? We've already figured out what we want, haven't we?"

"Well, _you_ did. If Erik wanted the same thing as you, then he's safe. But if he wants something different, he could still get cursed by the tablet."

The three of them look at Erik expectantly.

"What?" Erik says, uncomfortable with the sudden attention. "How should I know? I'm not sure that even Charles knew what he wanted."

A fleeting look of hurt passes Charles' face, but it's not covered up quickly enough for Erik to miss it.

"What?" Erik says again, but this time more tenderly, and specifically to Charles.

"Well…" Charles fidgets, looking down at his suddenly interesting hands. He bites his lips and his cheeks are flushed. "I… I did know I wanted us to be married. Very certainly. But you don't seem sure what you truly want. Are you uncertain about… us?"

"Charles." Erik is shocked. "Charles, haven't we gone over this already? I admit, okay, marriage is a big deal for me, but it's not necessary to keep me loving you, you see? Have some more confidence in us."

Charles smiles shyly at him. "Oh darling, but I do."

They lean forward to kiss.

"Get a room!" Raven yells and throws a cushion at them. Hank coughs.

 

***

 

*****

 

***

 

Erik sits in a pile of his now-too-large clothes. He stares up at Charles.

Charles grins very, very widely.

Erik squawks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!!! 
> 
> Thank you very much for reading, for your kudos, and for your lovely, lovely comments. Every one means very much to me. :') And eheh I do sometimes thank some of your usernames out loud when I'm alone. #hermitandproud
> 
> I hope you liked this crack. This is the last complete fic I have in my folders, so you'll probably not see anything from me for a while. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking by me!!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Feeling Hawkish, Darling? (Remix of Are You Sulking Again)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11322402) by [Fullmetalcarer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fullmetalcarer/pseuds/Fullmetalcarer)




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